


long live these walls

by artemis_writes



Series: I'll Tell You the Truth (But Never Goodbye) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Gen, He is a good dad, Memories, angsty tommy, ghostbur is sad, ghostbur's diary, ghostbur's what i remember, lanterns, old lmanberg, phil is trying v hard, please he just wants to be loved, pre-retirement arc techno, sleep bois inc (sbi) dynamics, smp typical angst and content warnings, this is basically before any of the exile stuff happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis_writes/pseuds/artemis_writes
Summary: i heard there was a special place where men could go and emancipate the brutality and the tyranny of their rulers...[Part 2: L'manberg]
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: I'll Tell You the Truth (But Never Goodbye) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026055
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	long live these walls

**Author's Note:**

> hellooooo im back! school's a bitch and so's procrastination, but i hope you enjoy!
> 
> title from long live by taylor swift (yes i unironically listen to her shit, listen it was a phase and there's no escaping now)

Sometimes Ghostbur wished he remembered more.

Every place he went was empty, weighted with the sorrow and anger of an entire country.

The mere sight of the large crater at the end of the worn wooden path was enough to convince him to avoid that area altogether. The entire city, however friendly the dark structures and marketplace were meant to be, felt all too familiar for they were not the black and yellow he so vividly remembered from the war, so Ghostbur stayed away, preferring to explore the vast grassy plains not far from the main areas of the server. (That is, until Fundy - his son! - told him that he needed his armor back and would meet him atop the hillside overlooking the strange land he was told was New L’manberg.)

(He wished he never went. If not for the anger in his son’s eyes, but the desperation.) 

Every person he met avoided his glance. He could sense the hurt in their eyes, could feel their disdain, and sometimes, even fear. 

Ghostbur did not understand. 

He wished he could right the wrongs that Wilbur did to these people, that he could make their attention not feel like a bomb seconds away from detonation. (But how could he? Every time Tubbo had tried to explain it to him, his brain had lit up and his body gone so, so cold. Perhaps it was selfish, but a small part of Ghostbur did not want those memories if it meant hurting. He would fix things, with his friends, his family, and his mind another way.)

(He did not know one.) 

Every step he took weighed him down, leading him down a path that seemed oh so familiar and oh so dangerous. 

He wanted to be safe, to be approachable. He wanted the people who said they were friends, his brothers, his son. But every time he made an effort, sent a letter, a sign, a flower, it was met with a sad smile and searching eyes. (What were they looking for? Why was he not enough? He tried so hard just to be who they want him to be so why, why could they possibly not take him back?) 

One day, these aching steps lead him to a pond, just outside the crater.

Ghostbur had passed it many times, but never once did he stop to dip his feet in it and he did not remember doing so when he was alive. 

(What better time than the present?)

As he sat down, the heat of the setting sun against his sweater almost enough to distract him from the ever-present evening breeze, a shadow passed behind him just as he kicked off his left boot. 

“Hello!” He grinned, eyes bright as he turned to face the person. 

Was it his son?

He hoped so! 

(Fundy did not have a reason to come by L’manberg anymore, not when the source of his pain seemed to reside there.) 

“Ghostbur?” Phil’s shadow grew taller behind him. 

He tried to hide his disappointment. “Yes, it’s me!”

Of course there was nothing wrong with Phil, the man he vividly remembered as his dad, caring and empathetic and always there for him, just like he always was for Fundy! 

They had done so much for each other and Ghostbur didn’t feel the hollow buzzing that came from missing memories when he thought of Phil. It was comforting, to say the least, to have something solid, someone he knew had only done good for him, someone who had genuinely had his best interests at heart. 

Nevertheless, he wasn’t his son. 

His son, who always seemed to brace himself before approaching him. His son whose ears deflated at the sight of him, whose tail always seemed to sink if Ghostbur caught him off guard. His son who could never look him in the eye, and the one time he did, a sunny day he would remember forever, there was nothing there. 

(He was just growing, just like every child does.) 

“Son?”

“Oh! Sorry!” Ghostbur shook his head. “Must’ve drifted off there. The water’s very nice today!”

“Alright then,” Phil hummed. 

A comfortable silence settled over the two as Phil sat next to him, eyes trained on the pond, just in front of his feet. Ghostbur caught the glance in his direction when a particularly violent splash got his pants wet. He knew he couldn’t possibly soak his pants, but it still felt damp and he still didn’t like it. 

Ghostbur held Phil’s gaze and cocked his head to the side which earned a small chuckle from the other man. 

Maybe everything hadn’t changed that drastically after all. 

He returned his gaze to the stars, drawing lines between each of them to form constellations long forgotten, intricate patterns that leapt through the night sky. 

He didn’t realize it had gotten dark already. 

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Oh! He’d forgotten about Phil. 

“Nothing much,” he admitted, “I just like the stars. They’re particularly nice here. In L’manberg, I mean.”

“You always have.”

“It’s just nice to know they’re always up there, ya know? Like they’re looking at me and I’m looking at them. They’re like friends, Phil!”

Phil nodded knowingly, almost enough to distract from a green-sleeved hand that immediately moved closer to the hilt of a glowing black sword Ghostbur hadn’t noticed before. 

“Phil?” He asked uncertainly. 

“Duck.”

“Duck! Where?”

“No, Wil! I meant duck as in-”

An arrow flew through his right arm. Ghostbur expected it to imbed itself in his flesh, or at the very least hurt, but only the faint memory of pain from a time that had long passed made him flinch. His gaze was torn from the would-be puncture in his arm by the clatter of the netherite sword and the familiar sound of a string against an arrow. The following clatter of bones and twinkling orbs of experience not far in the distance told him all he needed to know. 

“It’s pretty dark now!” He laughed. “Last time I remember seeing L’manberg it was really hard to get snuck up on. Ya know, with the walls and all, but they’re kinda...kinda gone now.”

“I mean, you were always quite the builder and it _is_ quite dark out. Maybe you could put up some street lamps at each corner with some trap doors and maybe a few torches-”

“What about lanterns?” 

“Lanterns?”

“Yeah! Chinese lanterns!”

Phil perked up. “Like when you were younger?”

“Exactly like those!” 

“Well,” he said, an enormous grin spreading across his face, “I think they’d be perfect, Wil.”

“Yeah?”

He put his arm around his back, pulling Ghostbur closer only for his hand to phase through his sweater. Ghostbur frowned and quickly scooted next to Phil before resting his head on his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. 

_____________________

  
  


“What happened to you?” 

He instantly stopped gathering sticks. 

Ghostbur hadn’t heard that voice in a very long time. Gone were the days of lounging around the house, defending him against the assholes at school, and eventually, against his little brother. Although he didn’t remember his hair being that straight or tusks being that long, the person before him was unmistakable. 

After all, no amount of time could make him forget about his twin brother. 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Technoblade,” he laughed. Ghostbur hoped he didn’t notice the slight crack in his voice. 

(Of course he did. He always had.)

“Yup.” 

“Still not much of a talker then, huh?” 

“I handle it.” Techno shrugged. “But I do want it known that I’m not blind.”

“Noted,” he giggled.

He grabbed his shoulder only for his hand to fall through it, similarly to Phil. His eyes widened - they looked more tired than he remembered - and went to adjust his crown. “Wilbur, look at me, I’m serious.” 

“What? You’re still like you were when we were little!” 

Techno’s eyes darkened. “But you’re not.”

“I, I mean no, I guess I’m not. My hair got longer, I got better at guitar, I died as well, oh! And I’d like to think I can build cool stuff now!” 

“You _died?_ _That’s_ what happened?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head quizzically. “You were there, right? At the...when Phil...yeah. That time?”

“I never saw you after you gave the presidency to Tommy.”

“Huh. I don’t remember that.”

“Well I don’t remember you dying, so I guess we’re even,” Techno deadpanned. 

Ghostbur paused, peering intently at him, before he returned to rummaging through the wooden chests. 

“Yes! Here’s more!”

Techno looked over his shoulder. “More what?” 

“Sticks!” 

“Wilbur, I can see that. I mean what are they for?”

He shoved aside an iron pickaxe and, just as he thought, found another bundle of sticks as well as a few containers of red dye! “Chinese lanterns!” 

“Lanterns?” His voice sounded far away now, in a memory Ghostbur knew like it was yesterday. 

(It certainly felt like it. Where did all the time go?) 

“For the sky,” he added helpfully. 

“In L’manberg?”

“Yup!” 

With that, Ghostbur gathered his newly found supplies and scurried outside in case they fell before he reached the empty platform outside of the main housing area. 

Much to his surprise, Techno followed him past the exit of the house and even sat next to him, his cape that used to be so very grand and regal now dirty and torn from potion stains and hours of farming, sprawled behind him. Ghostbur pushed the white fluffy bit away from the sticks, afraid they would snag and cause even more damage, and began assembling the lanterns. 

Techno watched him complete lantern after lantern and soon, a pile began to form on the dock (Platform? Techno wasn’t sure.), though Ghostbur didn’t seem to care and only continued to shape each one, carefully, with, dare he say, a touch as light as a ghost.

Eventually, he looked over to find Techno staring intently at the half-finished lantern in his lap. “Wanna try?” 

Techno nodded. 

He obliged and passed over. a few sticks, some paper, and dyes of various colors. 

“I, uh, I was never good at this kind of stuff, you know,” he said awkwardly. 

“Hmm?” Ghostbur looked over. “Oh! Lanterns! Yeah, I know.”

“And I just, I don’t know, I think you’ve always been-”

“-Better at small talk that eases it’s way into harder conversations? Don’t worry, I remember,” he assured him. 

For words that by all other accounts were meant to sting, Techno only smiled at his brother, because for all he had lost after his death, he still was the Wilbur he knew. Clumsy, artistic, good with things that involved his hands. And maybe he could ignore the sad glint in his eye, or the way he seemed to have lost his snark in favor of the behavior similar to that of a lost puppy. 

Besides, Phil had asked him to talk to him for a reason. 

“Yeah, um, I dunno, I just thought I would spend some time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too!” Ghostbur beamed. “But it’s okay if you wanted to say something else. You can just say that and spend time with me! Unless it’s scary, I don’t like remembering scary things.”

“No, I don’t think it’s scary. I just wanted to, er, apologize, for not coming sooner.”

“It’s okay!” Liar. “You’re here now!”

“It’s not. I should’ve come by earlier, I just had to wait until Tubbo was busy.” 

“Tubbo?”

Techno grunted, “Well, yeah. Presidents don’t really like raging anarchists.”

“You’re against L’manberg?”

“Kinda? I mean, they did use all of my gear and my clout and then go and betray me, but it’s just governments in general. Nothing personal.”

Ghostbur deflated. “Oh.” 

“No it’s not like, Wilbur, I just meant government. I like what you’re doing with New L’manberg.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” He affirmed. “The buildings look cool. These lanterns seem like they’re gonna be nice too.”

He perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Techno smiled. 

They continued, sat together, as close as brothers could be. With colored paper and torches in hand Ghostbur guided his brother’s movements but for the most part, Techno held his own and was soon able to catch up to his pace. 

Although he knew it was irrational, there was a small voice in the back of his mind, something that kept whispering, digging into his resolve, that Techno, like Phil and Tommy, would leave him. Every time he went for his sword or shifted to better reach a pile of sticks, Ghostbur thought for sure he would leave. 

And yet, he didn’t. 

“Hey, Wilbur?”

He hesitantly looked over. “Hello Technoblade!” 

“You should go to the museum.”

“Museum?” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember a museum.”

“Neither do I. But Phil said Tommy and I should meet you there and at one point. I just… I figured I should see you first.”

Ghostbur leaned over and began to light a lantern, desperate to fiddle with something. “Oh. Why?”

“Uh, yeah. Tommy and I aren’t really on speaking terms right now.”

“Oh. No government, right.” 

“Yeah.”

“So the museum?”

“Right,” Techno scratched his head. “Well we agreed to meet there in five minutes and it’s about a two minute walk. Plus Eret’s actually made some cool exhibits you might wanna see so-”

“So I’d best be on my way! Do you think you could finish with the rest of the lanterns or should I just leave them here?”

“I’ve got it. You go to the museum.”

Ghostbur was beaming. “Okay! Have fun, Technoblade! I hope the gang can meet up again sometime soon!”

“That makes two of us,” he muttered, but Ghostbur had sprinted well out of earshot.

  
  


_____________________

  
  


Ghostbur waited. 

He sat on the steps at the front of the towering marble building and admired the craftsmanship to pass the time. Then he admired the stars again and thought fondly of his meeting with Phil and the lanterns that were soon to join the stars in New L’manberg. 

Tommy had yet to show. 

Ghostbur figured his brother wouldn’t mind if he checked out the museum a bit first. What was a small peek? 

To his delight, he immediately spotted his hotdog van center stage inside of the building. He skipped around it, finding the familiar stone button and glassy windows that hinted at something more than hotdogs in the back. Even the wooden floors inside felt so incredibly familiar! It had been built identically to the way he remembered it was in those woods and then within those walls all that time ago.

(Where had the walls gone? He didn’t remember taking them down.)

Ghostbur didn’t like to think about those things, about dark times that had pushed themselves too far back into his mind for them to ever be able to resurface. 

Or, at least he hopes they won’t. 

But as fate would have it, he found himself face to face with a giant map covered in dirt and clearly weathered by rain and snow. It stretched the entirety of one of the smaller walls of the museum, not yet behind glass. 

Some parts of the map were familiar. Ghostbur could point to where some of them were and go to them then and there if he wanted. But...other things don’t seem quite right. The empty grass, too many buildings that he could’ve sworn weren’t there before, and especially those goddamn walls. 

Black and yellow brick in all of its glory, forever immortalized before his very eyes. Logically, he knew what must’ve happened and that things had changed, that he - no, Alivebur - had hurt these people beyond his imagination. 

But the walls were sacred. They protected them from the outside and were a symbol of L’manberg as he knew it. He wouldn’t have remembered them in the slightest if he hadn’t have had his very best memories within those walls. 

So if his memory was true, all of that had truly happened, why were they torn down and goddamnit, why did his head hurt _so much_ when he looked at that weathered map? 

He didn’t want to be hurt. He didn’t want to hurt other people. 

Thinking about this hurt, so it would go away if he stopped thinking. 

Right?

_Right?_

Please dear god, he wanted it to go away. He wanted to help, he was Ghostbur! He was friendly and happy and a good builder and lived in a sewer with a nice library where everyone could come and make friends. 

He was a good person now. 

He was a good person but the thoughts in his head weren’t very good and they wouldn’t _shut up._

“Wilbur?” 

A very shocked, and very late, Tommy stood above him with wide eyes and a shaky chest. 

“Hello!” He managed. 

Ghostbur wasn’t supposed to look like this, he was supposed to be happy. 

He walked towards him. “Are you alright?”

“Um, yes.”

“You’re lying,” Tommy said bluntly. 

“I guess I am. It’s not very nice to lie, I’m sorry.”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a roaring anger in his eyes Ghostbur wished he could unsee, but Tommy uncrossed his arms and the anger melted away as fast as it had gone. “Yeah. You should be,” He muttered.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

They stared at each other then, neither wanting to back down from the unsaid challenge each had unknowingly placed before the other. Ghostbur knew Tommy hadn’t come just to say hi, but he also knew that his little brother wasn’t always a shithead and that he could actually be quite perceptive. 

(Not that Ghostbur needed anyone to perceive anything. He was an open book!)

“Wil - Ghostbur. Wilbur? Wil? What do you go by nowadays.”

Ghostbur. 

“Anything you’d like, I guess.” 

He furrowed his brow. “Alright then. Well, Wilbur, I’m not sure I like this place. Wanna head to my house?”

Huh. 

Maybe tonight could be salvaged after all. 

“Yeah,” Ghostbur smiled. “I’d quite like that.” 

And off they went, into the walls they’d once known oh so well. Black and yellow that meant safety. That meant home. Into the arms of those they cared for and that cared for them, into the arms of his family. And when Ghostbur caught a glimpse of the last of the lanterns he and Techno had made, he couldn’t stop smiling. 

Black and yellow. And red and white and blue too. New friends, new family, new beginnings. New Ghostbur. 

He wouldn’t mess up this time. 

Long live these walls.

**Author's Note:**

> bro the support on the last fic in this series was insane slkjfkldsjfkld. literally i just looked and i'm shocked anybody even reads these and i just wanna say tysm yall are amazing :D
> 
> also just realized its called things i remember and not what i remember...
> 
> oops


End file.
